Porcelain Princess
by Midnight Turquoise
Summary: Reposted after begging from two very nice reviewers. : The last two chapters aren't that good, but the first ones are! enjoy!
1. Chapter I

First House fic. I've written before, but this was a drabble that I extracted from my skull to fight a bout of insomnia. A bit of cursing, but nothing bad apart from that.

Enjoy! ...or don't.

The night was closing in.

He was in a place far beyond the city streets. The whizzing of cars and highways was long since forgotten.

He thought of her… And only her. The kiss… That damn dress…

Greg House wasn't much of a brooder. No, that's a lie. Before her, he wasn't. Then she pranced in with her form fitting vests and oh-so-long legs… Damn her.

Nothing could ever measure up to the feelings of guilt he felt when he saw her crestfallen face after he said all those terrible things to her. She should have never forgiven him. But she did. Every time. That crazy woman… and he allowed himself to hope. Then she kissed him…. And he stopped her. She had that fucking syringe with her.

Fuck.

Staring out at the calm water before him, he envisioned her beautiful face etched into the side of the only somewhat visible moon. He sighed like an immature schoolboy lusting after forbidden fruit.

"Yo, man. You okay? You need help or somethin'? It's hard to find your way around in the dark, dude. The sun's goin' down, yo." Prepubescent schoolboys and their miserable girlfriends had approached silently, startling him from his reverie.

"No shit? You sure 'bout that, dude?" House retorted halfheartedly, angry to be interrupted.

"Ya, man!" Sniggering, he rose awkwardly, dragging his cane through the rocksand.

He limped away without another word. His pocket vibrated and he groaned in annoyance. People should really leave him the hell alone. Glancing at the caller id, his heart fluttered weakly.

Alison Cameron.

"The Best Little Whorehouse on the East Coast. This is Timmy Ray. How can I help you?" He answered gruffly.

"House." Her voice was thick and choked with tears.

"Yes," he breathed. _Dear higher being. Let her be alright or I swear to you I will not let you rest until you have suffered._

"Help… oh, dear God. Please help. Foreman didn't answer his phone and Cuddy's in Michigan and Wilson's in a meeting and holy Jesus Christ… Please come now!" She sobbed heavily, voice cracking.

"Chase? Where's your pretty British hotboy when you need him?" He replied quickly, angry that he wasn't there to help her. He stole her from him. He might as well treat her like a damn queen in the process of systematically ruining his life.

"It's… Chase. He took the car and I don't think I can move… Hurry. Please, House. Hurry." Her voice was retreating into the background.

"I'm on my way. Don't fall asleep." He shut the phone and dropped his cane, sprinting as fast as his worthless leg would let him.

He had to save her. His porcelain princess was shattered and he had to save her.

So, tell me what you think. Should I write another chapter? If I did it would be planned better, so it would be better written, too. You don't review, I don't write. Lol if it's bad, just say so and I won't continue it. I'll make it a pretty little oneshot, never to be opened again. Thanks for reading!!! ---Evey


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I wish. Geez.

More cursing. Nothing terrible. Read and review!

His heart raced as other cars flew past him. His motorcycle had never been on a quest so purposeful. It seemed like it had been eons since he had spoken to her and with every passing second his heart grew more agitated.

At long last he reached Cameron's apartment. He limped up the stairs as quickly as his bum leg would carry him, pain notwithstanding.

He reached her conveniently open door and stopped short, aghast.

Glass and wood shards littered the hardwood floor. There was blood everywhere, puddling around a single object.

Alison Cameron.

Every surface of her body seemed abused, broken or bleeding in some way or another. She was unconscious.

"CAMERON!" He yelled, attempting to wake her as he hopped to her side through shattered glass and blood droplets. Feeling for a pulse, he spoke to her roughly. "Alison, I need you to wake up. Now." After finding a slow and weak but constant heartbeat, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, smearing the faceplate with blood. He frantically dialed the Princeton-Plainsboro Emergency Room.

"House…" A strangled, choked noise came from the prostrate figure on the floor.

"Cameron. Stay with me. Don't fall asleep," he begged.

"No…no hospital. Not Princeton," she sighed tiredly.

"Don't be ridiculous."Turning his head away, he replied to the idiot woman answering the phones. "Yeah, ambulance to 3606 Orleanna Road. Apartment number 601. Extreme blood loss- bring B negative. Just bring it, damnit!" Cameron made feeble efforts to pull his phone away. He hung up angrily.

"Why in the hell wouldn't you call an ambulance first?! Why not the hospital, you stupid woman? Not that you have a choice, of course." He gingerly inspected her head wound. She cringed as he gently wiped off some of the blood from her forehead with his sleeve.

"Chase…"

"Shut up about the damn wombat. I don't give a bloody fuck where he is or why he isn't helping you. What's been hurt?"

"It's… it's cold. I'm tired, House." He stared into her glazed eyes.

"No! No- Don't sleep, Cameron." Her eyes drooped. As they closed he spoke again. "Stay here. Stay with me. Please." His voice cracked and he bit his lip.

He slapped her. Hard.

"Wake up, damnit! Don't make me tell you again!" A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"My leg, House. Glass… femoral artery…" He cursed himself.

"Fuck. Stay awake, Cameron. Listen for the sirens." He shuffled his way down to her left thigh, which was dark with her blood. The mutilated gash was obscured by the slacks she wore. He ripped them apart savagely. Cameron did not protest, but merely clenched an invisible handhold on the floor.

The shard of objecting glass was sticking straight out of her pale thigh.

"Cameron."

"Yes…" she breathed.

"Take a deep breath. I want you to hold it." She did as she was told, and as she held her shallow breath, he tore the glass out of the disfigured leg.

She did not scream. The small whimper she released from her mouth was feeble and decreased in perfect time with the newly heard ambulance sirens.

House removed his belt and made a tourniquet of it for her leg. As he finished, a troop of ambulance attendants and firefighters pushed him out of the way. He limped hurriedly to the ambulance waiting below, realizing that his favorite pair of jeans was ruined, stained with blood and riddled with glass shards.

That was nothing.

He didn't know what had happened to her. He didn't ask. All he knew was that if she died, he would die too. He already died a little every time he saw her with him… just a little more wouldn't matter.

If she shattered, he would lie down in the shards and surround himself with her.

So, what do you think?! I don't feel great about it, but if you guys like it, I'll keep at it. Thank you so much to all that reviewed! I love you with every atom of my being!** .houseandcameronlove.2, a, DelaRosa, vernie, VisualIDentificationZeta,** **AllyCameron**, and especially **Quite Silent**, who left me the longest review. Please review, guys. I don't know if it's good if you don't! Love and cookies-- Evey


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:….I hate admitting this. I…don't…own… House. Ack… It burns!

A/N: I probably should have clarified this. The glass shard did not sever the femoral artery. He would not have yanked it out if it had. Thank you, **VisualIDentificationZeta**, for helping me realize my ommitance of this tiny yet incredibly relevant fact. Cookie cake for you. Oh, and hey, I'm really sorry the chapters are so short. It feels like I'm going 25 miles an hour on this fic, but eventually they'll get longer and better. XX –Evey

The ride to the hospital was agonizing. Every passing moment was a battle for Cameron's life, and with every shallow, ragged breath she took, he prayed silently to every god he could name, and some that he couldn't, that it wasn't her last. He was so diverted, in fact, that when one of the ambulance attendants began to inspect Cameron's leg wound, he did not interject. Nor did he throw out any crude, angry remarks to anyone.

He had eyes for Alison Cameron and her alone.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, House found himself glued to the seat. The attendants began to pull the stretcher out of the ambulance and Cameron's eyes fluttered open.

"House…" Groggy from morphine, her words slurred together. "House… I can't… Chase. Save me…" House sat completely still, unable to blink. "House, he wasn't playing fair."

The stretcher wheeled away, and House followed after it like a madman. As they went through the doors to the OR, a nurse in an obnoxious puce set of scrubs yelled at him.

"Dr. House, Get out of the OR! Watch from the observation room!"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

She didn't need him anymore.

She was now in the somewhat competent hands of the weekend on-call surgical staff. He turned around in the empty hallway and limped painfully to the door. On his way out of the hospital, he stole a crutch from the clinic to ease his travel home… and vaguely remembered seeing Cuddy gasp at him…

Oh well.

He hailed a taxi and popped a few Vicodin. He thought he was home free before the grating voice of Lisa Cuddy punctured his thoughts.

"Dear Christ, House! What happened to you?!"

_Alison Cameron, _he thought to himself. _Alison Cameron happened to me. _

He got into the taxi very slowly and completely ignored the rest of the world.

A/N:I am extremely unhappy with this chapter. Extremely. I'm angrily battling the worst case of writer's block I've ever experienced. Exam season is coming up. I'm studying like crazy, so my mind is stock full of useless information. RAWRG. Send me your thoughts! All of them! Thanks to **AllyCameron**, **Mix-Me-A-Martini**, **JackSam**, **VisualIDentificationZeta** (my personal Jesus), **great start**, **Quite Silent**, **peace-and-war**, **Sandra**, **FrostyDream** and finally **.houseandcameronlove.2**. All your reviews make my day extra special. Big brownie goes to **Mix-Me-A-Martini**, because she's (I think you're a girl… forgive me if I'm wrong!) amazing and I love her/him. REVIEW! PLEASE! I leave delectable treats in your inbox when you do! Oh, and hey anonymous people, I can't email you, but I love you, too!! XX ----Evey


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:….I hate admitting this. I…don't…own… House. Ack… It burns!

A/N: I probably should have clarified this. The glass shard did not sever the femoral artery. He would not have yanked it out if it had. Thank you, **VisualIDentificationZeta**, for helping me realize my ommitance of this tiny yet incredibly relevant fact. Cookie cake for you. Oh, and hey, I'm really sorry the chapters are so short. It feels like I'm going 25 miles an hour on this fic, but eventually they'll get longer and better. XX –Evey

The ride to the hospital was agonizing. Every passing moment was a battle for Cameron's life, and with every shallow, ragged breath she took, he prayed silently to every god he could name, and some that he couldn't, that it wasn't her last. He was so diverted, in fact, that when one of the ambulance attendants began to inspect Cameron's leg wound, he did not interject. Nor did he throw out any crude, angry remarks to anyone.

He had eyes for Alison Cameron and her alone.

When they finally arrived at the hospital, House found himself glued to the seat. The attendants began to pull the stretcher out of the ambulance and Cameron's eyes fluttered open.

"House…" Groggy from morphine, her words slurred together. "House… I can't… Chase. Save me…" House sat completely still, unable to blink. "House, he wasn't playing fair."

The stretcher wheeled away, and House followed after it like a madman. As they went through the doors to the OR, a nurse in an obnoxious puce set of scrubs yelled at him.

"Dr. House, Get out of the OR! Watch from the observation room!"

He stopped dead in his tracks.

She didn't need him anymore.

She was now in the somewhat competent hands of the weekend on-call surgical staff. He turned around in the empty hallway and limped painfully to the door. On his way out of the hospital, he stole a crutch from the clinic to ease his travel home… and vaguely remembered seeing Cuddy gasp at him…

Oh well.

He hailed a taxi and popped a few Vicodin. He thought he was home free before the grating voice of Lisa Cuddy punctured his thoughts.

"Dear Christ, House! What happened to you?!"

_Alison Cameron, _he thought to himself. _Alison Cameron happened to me. _

He got into the taxi very slowly and completely ignored the rest of the world.

A/N:I am extremely unhappy with this chapter. Extremely. I'm angrily battling the worst case of writer's block I've ever experienced. Exam season is coming up. I'm studying like crazy, so my mind is stock full of useless information. RAWRG. Send me your thoughts! All of them! Thanks to **AllyCameron**, **Mix-Me-A-Martini**, **JackSam**, **VisualIDentificationZeta** (my personal Jesus), **great start**, **Quite Silent**, **peace-and-war**, **Sandra**, **FrostyDream** and finally **.houseandcameronlove.2**. All your reviews make my day extra special. Big brownie goes to **Mix-Me-A-Martini**, because she's (I think you're a girl… forgive me if I'm wrong!) amazing and I love her/him. REVIEW! PLEASE! I leave delectable treats in your inbox when you do! Oh, and hey anonymous people, I can't email you, but I love you, too!! XX ----Evey


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Funny joke about Brian Singer and such other things….. No.

A/N: The responses to this fic are phenomenal. They swell my big, red, beating heart with incandescent happiness. LOL I LOVE YOU ALL.

The tiled hospital floor was ice cold. He had rushed out of the apartment without shoes… where was his head these past couple of days? He sure as hell didn't know.

He approached the kiosk with poison in his eyes.

"Alison Cameron," he growled angrily. The nurse looked up from her paperwork and put the phone on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Can you hold on one minute?" The nurse rudely brushed him off and continued her conversation with the person on the other end of the phone.

House eyed the phone jack… and ripped it out of the wall. The nurse gasped in surprise and fright.

"You new here?" The nurse nodded fragilely. "If you want to keep getting those expensive highlights in your hair, you will never EVER ignore me again. Where is Alison Cameron?" The poor, battered woman on the other side of the desk stuttered painfully.

"Uh… R…room…4… 407." The words came out in a messy jumble.

He left without a thank you and limp-jogged towards the elevators.

"HOUSE!" …Satan. He continued to the elevators, ignoring the jarring voice in his ear. By the grace of God or Buddha or whatever, the doors opened before he had to push the button.

….But God hated him.

"House. Stop avoiding me." She had squeezed into the elevator mere milliseconds before it closed all the way. "What in God's name happened?"

House eyed her sarcastically.

"Isn't that a bit blasphemous? You know, with you being Satan and everything." Her eyes growled at him.

"Tell me what happened, House."

He sighed.

"She called me, and she was like, 'OMG, House. I want you now.' I was like, 'Hold on, pussy lumpkins. Take your clothes off and I'll be there soon.'" He glared at her. "What do you think happened?!" He sighed once more. "She called me on Saturday and was basically screaming in pain. I got to her as soon as I could. I helped her as much as possible before the EMT arrived."

Cuddy's breathing filled the small space.

"How-"

The elevator dinged. House snarled.

"Chase. It was Chase." Cuddy nearly shrieked in surprise, but was cut off by the elevator doors closing.

He soon found himself outside Cameron's room. The aggravated beeping sounds tore at his heart, angrily reminding him how terribly he failed. _I could have saved her…_

He stood there for several minutes, staring at her pale, prone figure. Her forehead was wrapped in a white bandage, leaving her glossy brown hair unattended and fanned out beneath her. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open and she stared directly at him, piercing his aching heart.

He turned to flee when Wilson materialized behind him, facing him when he turned completely around.

"Don't do this, House." Wilson gazed into House's eyes, reading every emotion like only he could.

"That's what your mom said last night. Weird. The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree." Wilson groaned, angry.

"My mother's dead, House."

"Oh… Oh well. I'll make it a point to avoid doing her in the future, then." House attempted to brush past him, but Wilson grabbed his arm and turned him the correct direction. "OW! You're hurting me, mommy."

"Go talk to her." A command.

He stood there for several moments, gazing at the floor. Wilson eventually let go of him and walked away.

House approached the room and slid the door open to find a pair of tired, beautiful blue-green eyes staring into his.

A/N: Just a filler, people. I just wanted to establish a stronger House-other character relationships and stabilize the House I'm trying to portray… Hopefully the realistic House. *laughs* Anyway, I have truckloads of homework to do… So thank you so much to the people that reviewed. My fav this time is Sandra A.K.A. Bouncy Tigger. She logged on (finally) just to add me to her alert list… *giggle* I heart you!

The chapter is a bit longer than the others by a tad. I was totally going to end it like, halfway through what I wrote but I figured I'd give you peeps a bit more than a couple of half-assed paragraphs. Review!

----Evey


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer and such other nonsense.

A/N I'm so sorry it took so damn long to get this chapter to you guys. I'm having boy problems... Ick.

He sat.

She stared.

He secretly wished he knew what to say.

"Do we have a case?" Cameron asked quietly.

...That did it.

"God damnit, Cameron!" House threw down his cane and stood. "That fucking Aussie did this to you. I should be wringing his neck. YOU should be wringing his neck, not asking whether we have a case or not. Jesus fucking Christ. You shouldn't even be here… I could have…" House stopped short.

"You could have what?" she breathed.

"I don't know what I was going to say." A lie. "The point is, Chase deserves death. No- even worse, he deserves to be hung by his toes and have little pieces of his skin shaved off until he doesn't have any more. Then he should go to hell..." He trailed off, stopped by a crippling pain that made his leg give out. He ended up sitting on Cameron's bed, his leg propped up beside hers. She had scooted over as far as possible, giving him the majority of the bed. There they sat in awkward silence for several minutes.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened?" Cameron asked, as if she were testing uncharted, deep waters.

His eyes bored into hers. A yes.

"Chase... Chase and I only drank socially. He was really unsure about it.... He didn't want to end up like his mother. We started going out more often, though, and he began to drink more. At first it was only light stuff. But then... he started getting into the hard stuff. He didn't bring it home, though. It was a social, public thing.

"I wasn't worried. He would sleep it off when we got home and everything would be fine. Soon after, though, he started to 'bring the party home'. His words, not mine. I still wasn't worried all that much. He wasn't an angry, harsh drunk. He was fun and kind of hyper. We had good times."

House snorted and Cameron slapped at him playfully.

"On Friday night, though, he went out with some people I didn't know. I decided to stay at my apartment. He rang the doorbell at three-thirty in the morning...I was, of course, asleep. I got up and answered the door, but he reeked of alcohol and vomit. I didn't let him in... And he went home." Cameron stopped and put her head on House's shoulder. House listened to her labored breathing for what seemed like decades. He loved it. After a while she righted herself.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so tired... I'm not thinking straight." House grunted.

"Go ahead. I want to give Chase a reason to attack me so I can kick his ass." _And I want to smell your hair..._

She put her head on his shoulder tentatively and continued with her story.

"In the afternoon that day he came back. I let him in because I couldn't smell anything on him. I went to get us some water and he followed me into the kitchen. I realized that he was still drunk when he kissed me. He tasted like pure alcohol. It was disgusting. I asked him if he was still drunk and he got defensive. He started getting paranoid and began to tear the place up. He kept yelling at me and saying things like 'where is he, you slut?' and other things to that effect. Then... Then he came back. He had an evil, angry glint in his eye and he punched me. Hard. It hurt so badly..." House growled under his breath.

"Then he went into the living room and threw the flower vases on the floor. There... There was glass everywhere. I ran into the living room to tell him to stop..." A weak intake of breath made him stiffen.

"He flew at me. Started to hit me and push me down. I tried to fight him, and I tried to tell him to leave me alone, but eventually I fell to the floor and stopped moving as he kicked me. The pain was too great. He left me there... bleeding."

House couldn't breathe anymore.

"I called Foreman... then I called you. It took me four tries to dial the number. By the time I got off the phone with you, I couldn't see or feel my feet." Cameron stopped a final time. House felt wetness on his shirt sleeve, but decided not to say anything. He wanted to be with her as long as possible, and when she fell asleep, he wrapped an arm around her. She resituated herself on his chest.

And that was how they slept.

A/N It's a bit longer than normal. Hopefully the coming chapters will stay this long and maybe get longer. Yaay.

I do apologize, once more, for taking forever on this chapter. I've been having insane relationship problems and haven't had time to do anything that I normally do, including reply to your reviews. Please review. I look forward to every one of them. They really do make my day. ----Evey


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Bite me.

The morning greeted them with rain and battles between thunder and lightning that were so constant that it seemed as if Mr. slash-Mrs. Omnipresent were hosting a bowling tournament.

It was dark. So dark that, in his initial waking moments, House was under the distinct impression that he was in his own bed. In his secondary waking moments, however, he realized that glorious scent in his nose was not his own, nor was the numb feeling in his arm and shoulder familiar. The persistent beeping, too, was, while not completely alien, out of place.

Low mumbling startled him from his restful, half sleeping state. His eyes opened quickly to find a thin, brunette, hospital gown clad female lying on top of him.

The events of the previous several days gushed into his consciousness and his sudden anger and reckless energy could have jump started the entirety of Las Vegas. His restlessness frustrated him, but the thought of her waking from her pleasant slumber gave him patience.

A nurse approached the bed he was sharing and he feigned sleep. In the darkness behind his eyelids, a grating voice sliced through his eardrums. The only voice that he didn't want to hear in the early morning. Not the Aussie's. It would have made his day to kick his blonde, drunken ass in front of the mangled female he almost destroyed.

The devil herself, in painfully insensible shoes.

"House."

No response.

"House."

Silence.

"House, I know you're awake. Cameron has to go to the OR now. Get off her bed."

Nothing.

"Now, House, before I bring in muscle."

He rose quickly and snatched the chart out of her hand.

"What for?" He asked, scanning over the chart in record time.

"Heart transplant."

His heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed.

For the first time in his entire life, Gregory House was at a loss for words.

And then they came.

"That's ridiculous. She has no history that indicates a need for a transplant."

In a whirl of color, hordes of doctors and nurses dressed in drab scrubs filed into the room to take Alison away. As quickly as they appeared, they disappeared again. He took a shortcut to the OR through the janitor's suite. He should have beat them to the OR, but he did not.

Panting and sweating, he ran up the stairs to the observation room, just in time to see them cut into Cameron's chest.

After a few horrid moments of confusion, the patient on the gurney flat lined prematurely. The surgeons hadn't even touched her heart yet.

The industrial, buzzing lights flickered off and in their place entered a strobe light that allowed him to see only snippets of images and flurries of movement.

In front of him appeared the careworn face of Lisa Cuddy that dissipated into the image of a fiery, setting sun.

As his consciousness set in, he realized where he was.

Eh? How's that for a cliffie?!! It's been a couple of months, and I apologize sincerely for that. My dad kicked me out of my house, so everything's been a bit crazy. I'm so sorry. I wish I could reply to your reviews personally once more, but I just don't have the time. Please PLEASE review. Oh, and if you're a fan of the short lived television series Dark Angel, check out my oneshot. My first fic ever.

--Evey.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the clothes on my back and the crap in my purse. Neither of those things happens to be in any way affiliated with the genius that is James Cameron. Sucks for me.

* * *

"Dude, you okay?"

The burning pain in his leg made him grimace.

Still groggy from sleep, he didn't realize that the odd feeling in his pants was his phone ringing.

Suddenly he became aware.

Heart pounding, he reached into his pocket and answered it without looking at who it was.

"House!" ....... Definitely not who he was expecting.

"Mommy, I'm busy. Can't we talk about this another time?"

"No! Where are you?You coerced some poor surgeon to do your clinic hours for you?!!! That is so unethical!" He rolled his eyes.

"…No shit. Is Cameron at the hospital?" He attempted to mask his desperation.

"Cameron? Really? Get your ass to the hospital. NOW." ….annoying woman.

"Is Cameron at the hospital? Where is Chase?"Cuddy sighed.

"Chase is here in my office with me. Chase, where is Cameron?" Muffled mumbling prolonged the silence in his heart. "She's in the ER. Where she works? Not everyone shirks their duties, House."

A silent sigh of relief shook his entire body.

"I'll be there soon." House stood quickly and shut his phone as Cuddy said "Really? That was easy…."

The ride to the hospital was fraught with idiot drivers and way too much traffic. He drove directly to the ER and, without any care for the space reserved for emergency vehicles, dropped his bike where he stopped.

Bursting through the commotion of the always-busy emergency room, he quickly found the sweaty, tired, and frazzled Alison Cameron caring for a patient with a tin pail stuck to his naked butt. He looked at her expectantly.

"House, I'm busy." She didn't even look at him.

"You're not too busy for what I'm about to tell you." Startled, she looked into his eyes.

"Alison… I am irrevocably in love with you. I don't know how, but I am. Believe me, I've tried to forget it… and I failed miserably, so I stopped trying."

"Failing never stopped you before. Why begin now?"

"Ooooooh. Dude, that burns," The pail-butt man interjected.

"Shut up, drunken frat boy. No one cares." House turned back to Alison with imploring eyes.

"…. What do you expect me to say, House? 'Oh, take me! Right now!'?" Cameron asked skeptically.

"Say you need me. Say 'Oh, House, let me be your sex kitten!' Say something… Even if it's a rejection. Just know that I'm quite persistent. Every Tuesday* would become every hour. Or half hour, if the situation is truly dire."

Cameron stood there for quite some time. He could almost hear the cogs turning in her head.

"Well, you're in luck. I happen to be single at the moment and get off in about 45 minutes. I'll meet you at Homeslice* in an hour. You'll pay. An, when the night is o-" House cut her off with his lips on hers. She squealed in protest for about two seconds and then melted into his embrace like room temperature butter.

............Life was good. Actually, life was perfect.

* * *

A/N: Done. Sorry its kind of anti-climactic. I hate myself for making you wait so long... Life got in the way. Which is why I don't write stories in the first place.... ugh. Negative thoughts aside, I am done with this fic. This is the end. If you want another, PM me. I'll make sure it's all written before I start posting so it won't take as long. Thank you for the reviews and the love. Fare the well! --Evey.


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